So You Want To Drink Alcohol?
by Bottles
Summary: Teenagers like to grow up too fast, and this includes Jakob Conway-Banks. This is how his parents deal with his tryst with alcohol. Warnings inside.


**SO YOU WANT TO DRINK ALCOHOL**

**NAME**: Bottles and no banksie

**RATING**: PG 13

**DISCLAIMER**.

This story is fiction; and it contains underage drinking, foul language, and slash. Beware, homophobes!

**SUMMARY**.

Teenagers like to grow up too fast, and this includes Jakob Conway-Banks. This is how his parents deal with his tryst with alcohol.

**QUICK NOTE**:

As I sit here and watch the first Duck movie, about to embark upon a journey of enlightenment for our Conway-Banks family, I watch as Bottles sits beside me, feverishly studying and hopefully learning Psychology for her exam tomorrow. What's the point in mentioning this? Well, there is no point really. But hopefully, you'll enjoy the story. And if you do, then review.

Oh yes. In case you didn't notice, this is slash.

**So You Want to Drink Alcohol**

Charlie Conway was comfortably resting on his red leather couch, watching a baseball game and drinking a beer in his living room when his sixteen year old son, Jakob tried to stealthily sneak in through the front door. Charlie would not have mentioned the fact that Jakob had arrived home twenty minutes after curfew, since he was so occupied with watching the Dodgers slaughter the Indians, until he heard a vase in the hallway fall to the floor and shatter, and he instantly rose.

Charlie flipped on the light switch, and a dim yellow light flooded the enclave. "Jakob? Are you all right?"

Jakob was crouched on his knees, trying hastily to pick up the pieces of porcelain that surrounded him. He avoided eye contact with his father as he swept the shards with his bare hands. "It's cool, Dad. I just stumbled a bit. I've got it."

"Here, let me help –"

"No, Dad!" Jakob protested, trying to scoot away from his father, who had bent close to him to retrieve larger parts of the broken vase. But as Jakob tried to move away from Charlie, his feet betrayed him, and he fell sideways into the porcelain.

"Fu…dge," Jakob slurred, as Charlie stood up and walked closer to him. Charlie grabbed Jakob by his collar and pulled him to his unsteady feet. He leaned close to his son and sniffed him.

"You smell like beer, Jakob."

There was an awkward pause.

"Why do you smell like this Jakob? Have you been drinking?"

Jakob thought briefly about lying to his father, but then remembered that his friend Taylor had spilt half of his bottle of Corona all over the front of Jakob's polo. Jakob sighed heavily and lifted his flushed face to his father's.

"Yes, Dad."

Disappointment was etched into Charlie's face. "Were you driving too?" he asked shortly.

Jakob shook his head vehemently. "No, sir. I would never drink and drive. I had Ally drop me off at home. She was DD, you know."

"DeeDee?" Charlie asked, as he slipped his hand around his son's waist and began to lead him into the living room.

"Designated driver," Jakob garbled.

"Ah," Charlie sighed and dropped his son on the couch. Then he pivoted and sunk into the adjacent Lazy Boy recliner. "So your girlfriend wasn't drinking, but you were, huh? Who provided the alcohol for this little stint?"

Jakob shrugged, unwilling to relay the information that Taylor had an older sister who gave them alcohol whenever they were able to pay for it.

Charlie nodded knowingly. "I understand that you don't want to give away your friends." He sighed heavily again, and took a good look at his son. "You should be glad that Adam is away on assignment," he told Jakob confidentially, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees. "He would have already grounded you for eternity, taken away your car, phone, and internet access, and…oh man," Charlie rested his chin in his hands.

"I don't know how to deal with you," Charlie said and took a sip of his Budweiser. Inspiration struck Charlie as he tipped back his beer. "So you want to drink alcohol?" Charlie stood up and headed for the locked cabinet in the kitchen. He snickered to himself as he open the liquor cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Bacardi. "I'll let him drink."

Charlie sat next to his son and proffered to him the open bottle. "Just this once son, I'm going to allow you to drink, because I think that if you get drunk off your ass, you'll wake up tomorrow with the most unimaginable hangover and then you'll never drink again. Adam would call it fucked up logic, but…Adam's not here." He smiled and then he toasted his son the first shot of many.

Many an hour and bottles later, father and son were sprawled onto the living room floor, enclosed by the mess they'd accumulated. Both were bordering on hallucinations, particularly Charlie who was envisioning his husband sitting on the couch, shaking his head in disapproval. He must have been moaning Adam's name out loud because Jakob rolled over and turned to Charlie and asked, "How did you and Daddy get together?"

Charlie grinned, and wiped the spit from his face. "Adam was very, very hot." Charlie giggled then, and reached for the second bottle of Jack Daniel's Whiskey. "We were about your age, probably…he got me drunk…we were drunk, and we fell asleep on top of one another. Then Adam…," Charlie stopped suddenly with a dreamy smile on his face, reminiscing about the first time they, rather aggressively, made out. Charlie had darted his tongue as thoroughly and as quickly as he could into Adam's mouth; sure that Adam would sober up at any second and shove Charlie off of him in disgust. But he hadn't, and in the morning when they'd woken up, arms and legs entangled, Adam had kissed him awake. "Adam was hot."

Jakob turned his face toward his father and rolled his eyes. "You sound like a pub…pubsc…a little girl!"

"You can…why don't you ask Adam? He was hot and he knows it," Charlie suggested and fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone. It took him a few tries, but he eventually turned it on and dialed Adam's cell phone number.

Adam picked up the phone on the fourth ring and grumbled, "This better be fucking important, Conway."

"This is not Conway…This is…Jakob's fadda!" Charlie cackled into the phone.

Adam groaned. "Oh, God."

"I love you Adam. Aren't you hot?" Charlie asked into the phone, hitting Jakob on the shoulder to make sure he was paying attention to Adam's response – although Jakob wouldn't be able to hear it since Adam was not on speakerphone.

"Whatever you say, Charlie."

"You're so hot baby. I wish you were here."

"You are so very, very drunk," Adam cleared his throat, and struggled to awaken himself.

"I'm not drunk, sweetie and I'm not Jakob's father!" Charlie giggled again.

"Where is Jakob, Charlie?" Adam asked.

"You hold on, baby and I'll ask him," Charlie tried to cover the phone with his hand, but failed.

"Where are you Jakob?" Charlie crowed.

Jakob laughed at his father's drunken antics. "Give me the phone, Dad."

There was a brawl for control of the phone, and Jakob won as he stuffed a nearby sock into Charlie's mouth. "Hey Daddy!"

Adam sat straight up in bed as he heard his son's tone of voice. "Are you drunk as well, Jake?" he asked sternly.

Jakob heehawed into the phone. "No way, Daddy!"

Adam smacked himself in the forehead, and cringed when he heard Charlie in the background faintly say "A toast to Adam…because he's hot!" and then the sound of glass hitting wood and shattering. "I am going to kill Charlie. I will murder him!"

"Murder is illegal still in all forty seven states, Da-"

"I don't care! Listen to me, Jake. Get away from your father and do not drink anymore, understand? Go crawl unto the couch until I get home. I'll drive the 300 miles in a rental car if I have to. I'll be home soon, okay? Put Charlie on though."

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too. Get Charlie."

There was a long pause until the phone reached Charlie. "Hey sweetie…I mean, who is this?"

"Charles Joshua Conway, when I get my hands on you, you are finished!"

Charlie interrupted him with a drunken burp to rival an earthquake. In the background, Jakob could be heard giggling. "I love you too, sweetie!" He waved at the phone as he clicked it off. "Buh bye."

"Daddy's come home!" Jakob informed Charlie, his proper grammar failing him.

Charlie looked at his son from across the room and suddenly had the courage to ask him a question that had been plaguing him for more than a decade. "Why don't you love me as much as you love Adam?"

Jakob pulled himself up onto the couch and turned off the lamp. He looked to his father in the darkness. "I love you equally. Sometimes I feel like I have to work for your love and respect, but Adam just gives it to me. He's a big pushover, and he stayed at home with me for years. You were always busy with hockey, but I know. I love you, Dad."

Charlie tried to rise from his prostrate position on the floor, but he couldn't get his limbs to coordinate with him. He sighed and laid his head back down. "If I could get up, Jake, I'd hug you."

Charlie started to pull himself towards his son in a pathetic attempt to embrace Jakob when he spotted a minute ant crawling across the floor. "Check it out, Jakob! It's an ant…I know where you're going, ant," Charlie leered. "Antsville! We lived there, you know. When we were poor," Charlie told Jakob, remembering when he and his mother lived in a shabby apartment in Minneapolis that was infested with the tiny rodents.

"I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me," Charlie begun to sing to the old tune of Queen. Jakob chimed in from the coach, "He's just a poor from a poor family…" The two continued to croon and butchered the lines, and gave each other a grand finale complete with head banging.

"You know who this song reminds me of?" Charlie asked his son as he nursed a bottle of Crown Royal. "Portman…let's call him!"

Portman picked up on the ninth ring. "Who the fuck is calling at 2:55AM?" he sputtered angrily into his receiver.

"Is you're…refrigerator," Jakob paused to guffaw evilly. "Is it running?"

"Look you fucking piece of shit, if you call my house again I'm going to find out whoever the fuck you are and beat you to a bloody pulp, you understand? I'm black like the side of the moon you don't see," Portman threatened.

"Porty, you're not black!" Jakob crowed. Portman sat up as he recognized whose voice it was on the other line because only one little boy had permission to call him 'Porty'.

"Jakob, does your father know what you're doing?"

"I don't know…here's Dad." Jakob aimed the phone and Charlie and threw it, connecting it on Charlie's nose.

"Fucking shit!" Charlie cried out and rubbed his nose. "That's a tender spot!" Then he bent down and picked up his cell.

"Who's this?" Charlie asked.

"Charles Conway, why is your son prank phone calling me at 3AM?"

"Because I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me," Charlie sang song into the phone, nearly starting off again on another rendition of Queen, but Portman interrupted him.

"You drunk bastard, if you weren't one of my best friends, I'd come over there and beat you –"

"You can come and beat me anytime you want, Dean," Charlie said seductively, lowering his tone a notch.

Portman shook his head. "You always did get horny when you were drunk. Isn't that how you and Adam –"

"Adam is not here! This is not Jakob's fadda! Adam is hot!" Charlie hung up the phone.

Charlie looked around fruitlessly for his son, and finally spotted him, passed out on the couch. Charlie grinned and lied down beside his ant friend, and subsequently passed out himself.

Two and a half hours later, Jakob was hovering over his father in a vain attempt to wake him up.

"Dad," Jakob begged. "Get up! I threw up everywhere!"

Charlie opened a bleary eye and saw piles of vomit on Jakob's trail from the couch to himself. He groaned. "We'll let Adam deal with it," he muttered and rolled over again.

Charlie felt Jakob slunk down beside him, propping himself up against his father's back. Jakob was sobering up and he wanted to ask his father a question that'd he had worried about ever since he figured out his parents were homosexuals. "Are you mad I'm not gay, Charlie?"

Jakob thought that Charlie had passed out again, because he did not respond for such a long interim, that Jakob rose to go lumber towards the couch again when Charlie said, " 'S long as you're happy, Jake. Just because Adam and me are gay, doesn't mean we 'spect you to be."

Jakob tried to sit back down again near his father, but he collapsed and one of his legs shot out from under him and slammed against Charlie's nose. Instantly, Charlie curled himself into the fetal position and covered his nose with his hands.

Jakob clamored over to his father and tried to get him to show him his nose. "I'm sorry Dad! Come on, you've got to go lie on the couch, upside down!"

Charlie looked up at Jakob with watery eyes, his nose sputtering a profusion of thick red blood. "Okay."

Somehow the two drunken men managed to reach the coach, and position Charlie so that his feet were propped up against the couch and so his head was hanging over the edge of the cushions.

There, both men promptly passed out again.

Shortly after the former incident occurred, Adam Banks arrived at the gate of the home he shared with his family.

"That's two hundred and thirty seven dollars, even," the cab driver said.

Adam sighed heavily and opened his wallet. "Do you accept traveler's checks?" he asked.

"Sure do," the cabbie said and threw his cigarette outside on Adam's front lawn.

"All right then," Adam grumbled. He swiftly wrote out the check, collected his bags from the backseat, and rose out of the taxi cab he'd been in ever since he'd left Balboa, minutes after he'd received the call from Charlie.

Adam admired the mansion he shared with his family as he pressed the pass code into his security gate that surrounded the home. He hurried up the driveway, where he could see the lights of the living room glowing brightly in the dim morning sun rise. Adam, who had only gotten three hours of sleep before his intoxicated husband had rang him earlier that morning, was exhausted as he put his key in the lock of the front door, and pushed it in.

Adam thundered as he walked into the door, "Charlie Conway! Where are you?"

He was not answered as he briskly made his way into the living room. There, he found his family; Adam espied his sixteen-year-old son passed out on the floor near the couch, where his husband was laying in a very odd position. Adam approached his husband, wondering what was on his face - dried blood was clinging under and around his nose, which was swollen to nearly twice it's already large size.

As mad and disappointed as Adam was with Charlie, and as concerned he was with the fact that Charlie had been bleeding sometime that night, he couldn't help but think that his hung-over husband looked adorable. Eventually yielding to his desire, he carefully bent down and gently pushed his lips against those of his husband.

There was no response from Charlie as Adam kissed him. Adam stood back up and grinned. "I'd have my way with you if you didn't look liked you hadn't had enough fun for tonight."

To this, Charlie seemingly came to life, by throwing up half of the contents in his stomach all over the front of Adam's feet. Charlie fell sideways to the floor as Adam stepped back in disgust, where he preceded to step in another pile of vomit.

"Welcome home, sweetie!"

"You and I are going to have a long talk this afternoon when you wake up, and how important it is not to disrupt me when I am on a scouting mission! And more importantly, why it is a very bad reason to get yourself and your SIXTEEN YEAR OLD son drunk off you collective asses!"

Charlie looked so pathetic lying on the floor that Adam felt his anger melt away. "Let's get you cleaned up Charlie."

It was many an hour later when Jakob, now changed into clean clothes and resting comfortably on the couch, with a cool washcloth pressed unto his forehead, opened his mouth and spoke dryly, "I hate you, Dad."

Charlie, from his position on the other couch nearby, opened his own bleary eyes and said, "I hate me too."

For those of you who have had the opportunity to be drunk, yet have not experienced the wonderful side effect of hallucinations brought on by near alcohol poisoning, we have one word for you: COLLEGE. That is all.

We would have written the conversations between Jakob and Charlie as drunken people would have said them, but 1) that would have taken too long, 2) we would have had to do research by drinking ourselves and then saying their lines and 3) you wouldn't have been able to understand it anyway.

Also, because have seemingly been sending out many messages only announcing our new stories, we have started an update list for any story by us (bottles and no banksie) so that we don't have to constantly update the MightyDucksMovie list when some of you are not interested in our stories.


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